grassy field with rustgrassy field with rustgrassy field with rust2 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
I'd heard about the old car, three miles out of town and all alone. I just had to see it. It was time. School was over for the summer, my friends were at camp, and I was bored. I set out Thursday morning for a hike, following directions that Uncle Will had given me. As the heat was still growing with the climb of the sun, I found the field and wandered around looking, and looking some more, trying not to be distracted by bees buzzing in the flowers, and butterflies and baby mice. Then it was there, just a bit upslope from the bottom of a natural swale, and just below the sky at the top of the bank. A 1959 Cadillac convertible, but not like the old music videos showed.
This one was part buried in grass gone to seed and turned almost white golden with the dry heat. The tires were collapsed cracked pieces and there wasn't a trace of pink paint anywhere. Rust owned it, and it held on so tight that holes were showing in what used
Grass AngelSunsplashed buildings, clear blue skiesGrass Angel3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
No traffic, no pedestrians; silence.
The end of June, the end of music.
No birds, no wind, no dreams
except this one.
This clinical, sterile dream,
Inside looking out
As the sun slowly makes its way
across the sky,
The only sound is the ticking clock.
I'm going outside to make a grass angel.
in praise of scavengersOh, those crows,in praise of scavengers3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
perceptive and wise and with a sense of time and season.
They know how emotional humans get
when Christmas comes.
What suckers they are for feeding the birds,
an act of love when they can give no love to others
The crows settle in apartment block parking lots
the way seagulls gather in shopping strips
next to fast food joints
or hover and flap in masses
on the scrapheaps of garbage scows
sent from the city
with the dregs of living
TiredI am tired, heavy-footed, worn with wear I wear my hairTired3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Cold air blows through windows trying to nip the buds
I watch the cigarette smoke whip through the air currents
Saddened by the sun's insistence, shining on a day like
I am rust, I am crushed metal, junkyard darkness, graveyard
I can't remember when I remembered what I'm trying so hard
Fire in oil drums replace the sun and the screaming and singing's
I can't sing anymore, like Clancy can't, and the noise in my head's a
RecessionA man on fire walked calmly out of the building, through glass doors that were maybe there, maybe not. Hit the bricks, pound the pavement, skin a cat or two. I saw what he was thinking, it formed a black cloud above his head.Recession3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
He thought of old photographs and wicker furniture, of how dark it was inside for all of those plants to thrive. He thought of chances taken and opportunities missed. The monologue in his burning head was a constant buzzing fly, a death rattle.
Old TV shows, bad poetry, seasons, songs and metalworks; nothing could shut out the memories or calm the storm inside. Treading water, he wished that he could fly again. Over the horizon he walked, never seeing the starving child scuffling along behind.
A man on fire disappeared from the picture plane today, through glass doors that were maybe there, maybe not. Hit the road, Jack, make tracks, don't step on a crack. Leaving dust and ash, smoke-feathers and birthday candles, he receded.
Witches MarketMidnight fell like an old black bird;Witches Market2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
I meant to wait for you.
There were tables rich with
amethyst and pearls,
and fragrance by the fistful,
mint and petrichor.
I meant to wait for you.
You were gliding through the haze
with your knotted bag half full-
shadows flicked their tongues
above your knees;
you meant to look for me.
Moments ran like mice;
a silver pot, a cup of tea.
She stank of vinegar and thyme-
the hand was hers, the heart was mine.
Her iron eyes reflected flame;
she took my lungs, she took my name,
though you had meant to look for me,
and I had to meant to wait for you
amid the black salt and the brew.
Ash for the handle,
Birch for the brush,
Willow for the cord that binds the twigs.
DrownBlackness at three AMDrown3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Books of hymns
Ribbons, wreathes, smoke
Phone calls from the dead
These things I know
DinnerTin cup rattle, see how the stars align tonight?Dinner2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Wooden table thunk, look, they're smiling!
Scrape of chair on wooden floor, one just winked at me
Meager meal by candlelight, but so happy, so happy
These are the days of wonder and love, the little days
The bright spots stitched in between work and boredom
Between births and deaths and catastrophes, these are the days
Leave the dishes for the kitchen elves, come to bed, she says
And the stars really do wink and smile
EastMy window faces east, I sit at my desk and stareEast2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
at the headlights crawling west past the backlit buildings
Sometimes I watch from the roof, looking west
just to get a different view, but it's all the same
Days come and go, nights come and go, but I stay
There's a place by the ocean I dream about, early morning mist
grey water, grey skies becoming blue, solitude, stillness
I keep a key in my pocket with "love" written on it, and wonder
what it might unlock; maybe trade the city dust for ocean spray
Someday, one day, but not today, it's never today
I close the blinds against the rising of the sun and go back to work
But the key in my pocket is warm against my thigh, it says "fly"
But I wait; fate will find me in the right place at the right time
It always does, somehow, and my brain whispers to my heart
to be patient, good things wait, but farther down the line
newshours no longer whittle into daysnews3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
strangled and uncalendared;
forbidden rituals of a new dark Eros
clothesline sheets and bed throes → blunders in a blue face
and sensing your reversals, i’ve grown and grown impossibly old;
god’s bad math:
infinities as remainders.
however they lapse
i spend the better part of them
burning through the flyleaves
for mandalas sealed in hell bank
for ashes of your epilogue
for the end of throats
in songs and news.
no one can regret their past
but of futures . . .
like when planets will re-purpose you
into interstellar fruit bats or thyme pulled from the brink of comets
and you’re wondering why i'll never find you
when datebooks write us in the living.
Eventthe stars are sharp and the wind has teethEvent2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
night is black as a bodybag
clanking, buzzing sounds surround
as the wind has its way with the town
dimlights from the hospital over there
cheerios in milk over here
the night ripped in two by the surgeons saw
the dreamless, the hopeless, the flawed
(sometimes the world shifts on its axis
and never settles right again)
the wind is sharp and the stars have teeth
chewing through the darkness
eating dreams, vomiting dust to the ground
the surgeon pulls his mask down
nothing more that we could do
goodnight, i've other things to tend to
bonesaw and flatline sounds surround
as the wind has its way with the town
EatEat the morning, those blue-grey monsters in the skyEat2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
The shaky leaves tremble at the thought of You, out there
Eating away at the perimeters, sucking in the daylight
Eyeing people in windows, wondering how they might taste
The texture of brick, and concrete, and asphalt, and metal
But mostly that mellow wide-open sky where the monsters cower
Cotton-candy fluff won't satisfy such a voracious appetite
But the world looks better without a sky, and now you can move on
The stars are invisible against a blank sky, go inside and drink beer
Until you begin throwing furniture through windows and
Howling your loss like an idiot banshee too late for warning
And wonder why you'd do such a thing as to eat the sky
StiraboutThe ghosts of a thousand CeltsStirabout2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
haunt where you lie, heavy as time,
dream-quiet in ochre and grey.
Warm as an October moon,
soft in a pink-cheeked dawn,
you wake to honey and cream
under my hand, butter melting
into a strawberry kiss,
StarsFat and fuzzy stars tonight, baby blue comfortStars3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Singing lullabies, soothing through the cold clear night
Promises of spring;
Windowpane lookers, abandon your sorrow
Wide-eyed children, believe that tomorrow
Unseen, the stars
The stars still sing
Waiting For ZeroesWaiting For ZeroesWaiting For Zeroes10 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
The battery's dead on my Braille translator
Fingers numb on keyboards
"Can't touch this." never meant so much or little
scrambling slowly on skull's insides
The roads are oiled
iced and dicey
All the pips are ones
Tractionless in aspic
grapes in green
All the pips are ones
Why does binary
never use twos?
seekerI wander much through such old country,seeker2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
a ghost who's thinking of other ghosts,
missing them and their effects,
an exile from the present, and from past.
thirty-threeIt took thirty-three years to reach the place my dad wasthirty-three11 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
He was there that long ago
Standing on a hill and looking out to far horizons
I wonder if he saw the same things I see
I know now that he loved me
though I couldn't see that then
Ahead the mountain stands
Climbed or no, I cannot say
but I walk on
On to the next and higher hill.
Lancelot Price 2013 August 29
PastThick mist tucked into old hills,Past3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
heavy and slumbering;
the tattered clouds gone lavender.
I won't tell you how beautiful it is.
I will only say, I am going home.
Breakfast At Connie'sSmall birdbones, brittleBreakfast At Connie's3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Large eggs over easy
Tiny dogs yip and nip at the feet
Under the table
A lock of hair in ashes
A crow cawing from the bookcase
Breakfast at Connie's is always
So damned surreal
Last chance for a smoke before the show begins
Light 'em if you got 'em, or just light a candle
Italian Catholic grey-eyed girls
A pumping heart dessert
Hidden in plain sight
Ignored by all as proper etiquette demands
They leave softly
Marching in softshoe-step rhythm
Crunching small bones beneath their feet
Wondering why it's still dark and why the
Show still goes on
circusInside the cage, the door secured by a lock he didn't have a key for, the man played Russian Roulette with tigers. He'd first ride one, and then another. Each time he survived, he'd ride another. He had to, you see, for the cage was full of tigers, no clear ground to step down. And away. It's just the way things are.circus2 years ago in Stories & Vignettes More Like This
Soft ParadeDown the darkened four AM streetsSoft Parade2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Morrison leads the Soft Parade
I've had enough beer for it to be all wavy
like watching a movie underwater
Bridges burn behind them
hearses falling off into the river
The string of bad luck and trouble is almost over
gone quietly in the early morning hours
Not with a bang or a whimper
only an extended sigh and the shake of a rattlesnake's tail
I watch as always from my window
feeling the dawn aching to come
Tallmy words are green tonightTall3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
written in the air in a neon glow
standing on the corner in the snow
reciting poetry from memory
i feel very tall
there is power in words
and tonight i'm in control
looming large and strong and
and feeling very tall
have i had too much? no,
just enough to clearly see
my shoulders are straight, my
head held high
speaking green words
and very, very tall